A Fairy Tale . . .

If you were to walk down to the end of our garden . . . waaaaay down to the end . . . tucked back amidst the branches of leaf all green,  which grows thick and tall and dark like a wall . . . down near the bottom, tucked in just so . . . if you looked, very, very carefully, you might see a very tiny door.  So tiny that you might be forgiven if you missed it entirely, but it's there . . . you just need to really look for it . . . be patient.

Can you see it???   It's there . . . right there . . . tucked into that trunk, woven into the bark just so . . .

Now lift up the corner of the doormat . . . underneath you'll find the key.  It's very tiny, but it's there . . . Just pick it up and fit it into the lock on the door.  Gently now . . . you won't want to disturb anyone overly much. Be very very quiet . . .

Swing the door open, ever so slowly . . . be careful now . . . you don't want any fairy dust to burst out into the air and make you sneeze.  That won't do at all . . .

There . . . ahh . . .  now scrunch way, way  down . . . and look inside . . .

You might see a table and chairs all set up for tea . . . upon a moss covered floor . . . the chairs set just so.  To the untrained eye, they may look like a bunch of twigs, but those of us who know can see the pattern there amongst the twig and leaf and moss . . . tis set and waiting.  Little acorn cups waiting for the brush of a fairy's finger to fill it up with nectar sweet and cool . . . trickled in from the dew of an early morning leaf, gathered for just such a purpose.

Look closely . . . and hold your breath . . . right there in the corner . . .

 Just look at all the goodies.  Set out upon a teensie twig table, as if they were expecting you and me . . . or some other fair company . . . sweet treats and blossom fit for a queen . . .  or two or three, a basket of tempting fairy delights.  Iced fairy cakes?  Who knows for sure . . . not me.

Everything is so tiny and sweet .  .  . small basins to wash small hands and feet . . . a tiny stool set just so, dried twig brushes to keep things clean, to make them glow.   Nutshell pots just small enough  to hold a fairy's charms . . . a shelf with herbs and tiny leaf . . . gathered by a fairy's arms.. . . twill make no sense to us . . . but a fairy knows . . . a fairy knows . . . just what makes magic so . . . just what makes magic so . . .

Look closer still and you might see . . . some tiny boots, and slippers too . . . amidst perfume of honey dew.  A winter vest, woven of moss . . . just right for wearing beneath a coat . . . the perfect size and weight to keep a fairy warm on a cold, cold day . . . but not today.  The sun shines . . . only a tiny skirt fashioned from the petals of a rose will do . . . layers upon layers of soft sweet pink, which fall across the legs just so . . .

Shhh . . . be very very quiet . . .

We daren't wake her up.  She sleeps amidst the moss and leaf . . . a tiny bed for her to keep . . . her toes tucked in beneath the sheets of gossamer thread . .  carefully gathered  from a spider's web . . . clusters of forget-me-nots above her head.  Sweet fairy dreams in the light of day . . . but that is when they sleep you know.  that is when they sleep.

The warmth and light  of any day makes them quite . . . quite drowsy, they say . . .  They must not risk being seen you know . . .

They prefer to bask in moon lit glow . . . as clouds fade across a darkening sky and the moon creeps high . . . listen carefully.  You may hear the soft flutter of their wings as they dance across the sky . . .  unfurled and flitting here and there . . .

Across the water . . . quickly now . . . quickly now.  Do not blink, or you will miss them you know.  They are quite fast and leave you wondering . . . did you . . . or didn't you . . . what was that flicker across your eye . . . that small light which dances across the darkening evening  sky . . .

By light of moon, they sing their songs and bound and leap amidst the fronds . . . of fern . . .  and dance upon the moss, of forest floor and  beaten paths.  Frolicking here and frolicking there, as if they have no single care, not like you and me.  Not they . . . not like you and me.

Now breathe . . . now breathe . . .

Just a little flight of fancy here this morning. I hope you enjoyed it.  I have always loved fairies. I remember when I was a little girl watching Mary Martin playing Peter Pan on our black and white telly, and near the end when Tinker Bell was dying, she looked straight at me and said that the only thing to save her was for me to believe in fairies and did I . . .  I said I do, I believe in fairies, and it saved Tinker Bell's life. My little "I do, I believe in fairies . . . "

Ahhh  . . .  the power of a child's imagination. 

A thought to carry with you  . . . 

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•。★★ 。* 。
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˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
 *.˛.Those who don't believe in magic,

will never find it  . . . •。★★ 。* 。 

Spiritual Enlightenment 

 

In the English Kitchen today  . . .  Chocolate Marble Cake . . . vintage  . . . 

Have a great Saturday!  Don't forget!

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And I do too!